Now is the Time
by NotEnoughTimeOnMyHands
Summary: This is the unthinkable story ... that I thought about thanks to some great fanfiction authors. This story might be difficult to read but I consider it a possibility. I love Red/Liz and there are lots of moments of them here ... between the moments of extreme angst xx
1. Chapter 1

So this is the unthinkable, thought about then written down. My bad! The idea first came to me through fanfiction and it stayed with me all this time. I consider it not out of the realms of possibility, no matter how difficult it may be to digest, that Red is using Liz and that there is a much bigger story to tell.

I'm a huge fan of angst so there is more than plenty of it here to go around. I know RedxLizzie asked about character death and the warning that should come with such a story line but I don't want to give anything away. If you know how I like my stories then that should give you some assurances xx

Monday might change everything or nothing, so for now this is set after ep 13. I have never once said this but for laughs I'm stating that I don't own the Blacklist ... I wish I owned James Spader. And just so you know, I wouldn't loan him out ;-)

Now is the time

Chapter 1

In the end it wasn't some dramatic shoot out or an clandestine operation gone wrong, that led to Tom's unveiling and unceremonious downfall. In fact the catalyst for the event was so domestic Lizzie didn't see it coming.

For months Tom had continued to be there for her, to say they could overcome the hardship of their failed adoption and the pressures of her job, but Lizzie could never let her guard down with him. She'd heard too much from Red, retained too many of her own suspicions to truly trust him again.

Tom was no fool, but then neither was she. The first time she caught him looking at her with dark menacing eyes it almost took her breath away, so unaccustomed was she to seeing the real face of Tom Keen. But desperation made him more dangerous than she could imagine, and the more their marriage began to fail, and with it his mission to stay close to her, the more reckless he became.

Sometimes he would continue with the charade but other times his actions were unpredictable. One such day he was building a new bedside table, approaching the flat pack furniture with the bravado of a man lacking the skill set to complete the job. Lizzie left him to it initially, taking care of other household duties that had gone undone for a little too long.

"Fuck" she hears him curse from the other room. She knows already which Tom she's about to see.

She walks in cautiously to see how his project is fairing. Maybe a little too cautiously because he jumps when he sees her, her silent approach angering him further.

"Jesus Lizzie" she spits out. He's holding the instructions and a little bracket, which he's obviously struggling to identify and find a home for.

"Can I help?" she asks quietly, not making eye contact with him, hoping not to anger him further.

"I've got this" he says his tone thick with contempt while he offers her what he must think is a reassuring smile.

She walks closer, examining the instructions and bracket over his shoulder. She sees on the diagram a small part that looks like the part Tom is holding but she wants to adjust the angle just to be sure, so she reaches for it.

As her fingers tighten on the bracket so do Tom's. "I got this" he almost spits at her, tugging hard on the small object. He starts to turn his body to her, using his superior weight to get the upper hand.

"For gods' sakes Tom" she says through gritted teeth.

And that's when it happens. Unexpectedly his fingers slip from the object. She is surprised and unable to compensate in time as the hand holding the object is released and she automatically brings it towards her.

It catches her above the eye, in an area that somehow seems prone to injury. The two of them are momentarily stunned by the accident and neither move. Then she feels the hot blood as it trickles over her eye.

"Liz, I'm sorry"

"It's fine, it's fine" she says dismissing him.

She shuns his offer of help, dressing the shallow wound herself. She tries icing it but can't help the bruise that develops. There will be no hiding this, no matter how she tries. Tomorrow at the Blacksite she'll keep her head down and hope for the best.

* * *

Lizzie enters the Blacksite the next day and is pleasantly surprised when people take the, home improvement, explanation for her injury at face value. She thinks she might just get away with it; after all it was an accident, not domestic abuse. She thinks that, right until Red arrives, locking eyes with her, registering every detail of her injury.

"Lizzie" he says in the lowest volume and octave that will allow her to hear, "what happened to your eye?"

She is momentarily stunned, there is an edge to his voice, a warning that tells her not to lie, not to conceal the truth from him in any way. And yet the truth is that this isn't as bad as it looks.

"Red, it was an accident." She says.

"Lizzie" he says again. Stepping close, lifting his hand to the side of her face and examining the wound. She is caught in his grasp, he's not holding her but she is unable to step away.

"Really" she says pleading.

"Are you telling me Tom wasn't involved?" Red asks her.

"He... We were just... It was my fault" she tries to explain.

"Why didn't you tell me it had gotten this bad? Why?" He says, seeming at once disappointed with her and concerned.

"No, it's not like that. Things have been strained, failing apart even, but this isn't part of it. It really was an accident" she says, trying to explain.

Red just continues to examine her eye. Stepping closer still, until their bodies are almost touching, "Lizzie" he breathes. She closes her eyes, feeling the heat from his body and the security she's been lacking all these months. A stray tear escapes between her lashes, she isn't crying, or at least she's not sure why. The one thing she knows is that she can rely on him; he is a constant for her when her home life is crumbling.

When she gets home that night Tom isn't there. Hours later she tries his cell phone, concerned that he hasn't contacted her. But he doesn't pick up and her messages go unanswered.

She sits up the whole night waiting for him. But Tom makes no appearance. At 6am there is a knock at the door. When she answers it she is greeted by two FBI agents, field agents out of the main DC office who tell her Tom is in the hospital, in their custody, and they have evidence linking him to a series of serious crimes.

Red.

The next few days are a blur. She's questioned, debriefed and informed of the horrible, if predictable, truth about her husband. She's reeling from it, and Red is there, silently anchoring her to the world. And he continues to do that in the coming months.

* * *

"I need you to go undercover to join Ressler and Malik." Cooper tells them.

Lizzie looks over at Red, he looks nonplussed about Cooper's statement, he's obviously known all about the undercover operation they've had going on these past months.

Red had given them details of a Blacklister but in their eager attempt to evidence gather they'd given themselves away and spooked him. Red was irked by their incompetency but seemed ambivalent about pursuing him further, certain another chance would come.

But of course that wasn't the FBI way and they'd doggedly hunted down their man, which had finally resulted in a clue to his location. They'd discovered his partner, a well respected businessman, and they planned to watch him until their target appeared. The undercover operation was deemed necessary as the Blacklister remained elusive and suspicious in a way that suggested self preservation.

She looks back at Cooper who continues, "Your cover is established. Ressler and Malik think things have moved forward, we want you both in place, the sooner the better."

"What's our cover story?" She asks.

"You're husband and wife" Cooper responds, his eyes moving from them to a message on his screen.

Lizzie answers, "Okay" just as Red says an emphatic, "no".

Cooper looks round at them, "problem?"

The silence extends, Lizzie blushes slightly, she's embarrassed but she's not certain why. "Fine, I can be your daughter" she says reminding him of a conversation from long ago. She sees a smile light his eyes but other than that he makes no response.

"Out of the question Keen. You aliases are out there, we can't change them now" Cooper says looking from her to Red.

"Very well Harold" Red says before he rises from his seat, takes the envelope with the details from Cooper and leaves the room.

* * *

They've been undercover for a week; settling in to new routines, trying to get comfortable around each other. It's been easier than she expected. Red is always considerate, always the gentleman, and if she's honest she's enjoying the chance to be this close. That evening they're attending a party that the partner is scheduled to attend, it's their first official public engagement with their personas, with the story that they're married.

The party is black tie so she slips on an expensive floor length dress, and matching Christian Louboutins. The outfit is divine and she wonders if Red helped to pick out her wardrobe for the trip, everything about the high end designer tags tells her he did. The material cascades down her body, catching her in just the right places. She surveys herself in the mirror, pleased with her appearance. She wonders what Red will think, realising she's trying to impress him and no one else.

She slowly makes her way downstairs. He's in the dining room, with a glass of wine in hand and the newspaper in front of him. He doesn't look up but says, "Ready to go?"

She's a little disappointed, thinking the minute to take his breath away has passed. "Sure" she says as she turns and goes to retrieve her coat.

When she's distracted is when he chooses to look up, but he tries not to look directly at her, instead using his peripheral vision to get an impression of how she looks. He doesn't want to be dazzled by her appearance, doesn't want to be distracted.

When they arrive at the party she takes his arm, he looks at her out of the corner of his eye, questioning. She just raises her eyebrows at him, smiling slightly. She's doing what's expected of her, even if she is enjoying it a bit too much.

The party is being held in someone's garden. The type of garden that needs a team of landscapers just to keep the ornamental trees in check. With the outdoor lights and candles it's breathtaking. After being greeted by the host they make their way further in, noticing but not acknowledging Ressler and Meera.

They manage small talk with a few other guests, Red introduces her as his wife but beyond that she's mostly sidelined from the conversation. She smiles at him, tries to stay close and involved but it's no easy task. She's somehow left to the side, adrift from him, adrift for the conversation. It goes on like this, as they circulate the party, meeting more and more of the guests. Eventually they move on to Ressler and Meera, but through careful orchestration they've managed to create a little distance between them and the other guests.

"You two are quite the convincing couple." Lizzie says smiling at them and raising an eyebrow at Meera.

"Well you're sure as hell not. I haven't seen such bad acting since the amateur dramatics club in high school." Ressler responds. "No one is buying it that you two are married, I can't believe I'm saying this but you better get your shit together before you blow this whole thing".

"Calm down Donald. Lizzie and I are doing just fine." Red responds, dismissing the remark.

"If by fine you mean platonic then yes, you are most certainly fine. But your cover story, the reality these people expect is that you're quite recently married. People expect that you won't be able to keep your hands off her, but you've barely looked at her." Donald explains.

"What do you want us to do Donald?" Lizzie asks.

"Turn the passion up a notch maybe, no scrub that, turn it on, since right now it's nonexistent. You know how Red is with you, but tonight, when he could give that free rein he's acting like you're poison and he's coming down with a bad case of anaphylaxis" Donald says, a fake smile on his lips while he surveys the rest of the party. They move again, Lizzie is mindful of Ressler's remarks so she tries to stand closer, giving Red the opportunity to act the part.

Later she's aware that they are doing no better a job. If anything Red is a little more tactile but he's no more affectionate. They look like partners, not husband and wife. She makes her excuses, making her way inside and into the bathroom. She's leaning against the door taking some deep calming breaths when she hears the lock turn.

She steps back from the door, not sure what to expect when Meera comes in. She closes the door and re-locks it.

"What the hell Keen?" Meera says quietly.

"I don't know. I don't know" she says holding her hands up in defence.

Meera just stares at her, sceptically for a few minutes. Red should add threatening to his 'attractive but treacherous' description of Meera because she feels the full weight of her inquisitive stare.

"I don't know Meera. It's been like this for a while. I know what Ressler says but it's been happening less and less. I don't see him as often, he's definitely pulling away, and I don't know why. He can't even pretend to be interested" she explains, sounding a little more emotional than she'd like but less than she feels.

"Maybe Reddington's playing the old, 'treat em mean, keep em keen' game", Meera says with a raised eyebrow indicating the humour she sees in the situation. "But I think you should make your excuses and go. I've had to live with haircut for months, I'm not about blow this either".

Meera leaves and after a few minutes Lizzie follows, she explains she's suddenly not feeling well to a member of the waiting staff, asking them to pass a message to her husband to meet her outside.

She makes her way to the front of the house, trying her best to look under the weather but not fragile enough that someone comes to offer assistance. After a few minutes Red appears with her coat.

"Lizzie?" He says, an anxious expression in his eyes.

"I thought we'd better leave, ill health seemed like as good an excuse as any" she explains.

They make their way back to the car and back to the house in silence. Once inside Red goes to the kitchen and pours them both a drink. She slips off her shoes at the door and follows him to the back of the house, gratefully accepting the drink he offers.

Silence again prevails and she realises the truth of what she said to Meera tonight. Something has changed between her and Red. When her own feelings for him were growing she was a little blind to it, or in denial, but there's no getting away from it now. She plans to finish her drink, and then go to bed but Red interrupts her thoughts.

"Lizzie, you looked radiant tonight." He says.

She lets out a disbelieving huff of air.

"You don't believe me? Every man at that party wanted to be with you." He says.

"Every man except the one I was with" she says giving him a look of incredulity. He looks back, his expression almost neutral but with a hint of something, maybe anger, she can't be sure.

She's too tired to make sense of this, to make sense of him. "Goodnight Red" she says putting the drink on the counter and leaving the kitchen.

"Lizzie" he says following her.

"Next time I'll insist you get teamed with someone a bit more desirable shall I?" she says as she continues across the room.

"Lizzie" he says, his dark and foreboding tone stopping her in her tracks.

She turns to look at him, the shame of the evenings rejection heating her face, "It's fine." She nods her head, "I get it." The defeated tone letting him know that she thinks she understands, that he doesn't want her and doesn't find her attractive.

She's about to turn and make her way upstairs when he steps towards her. She's frozen to the spot as he moves in, placing one hand on her waist and one in her hair. He meets her eyes for a few moments, holding her gaze.

Of course he's warring with himself, he wants this but he knows it's wrong. It's why he's been withdrawing; he didn't mean to be intentionally cruel to her in this way. When he sensed her growing attraction he took steps to avoid this, ensuring he wasn't encouraging her feelings.

He wants to kiss her, he has for the longest time, his desire at first taking him by surprise but now he's grown accustomed to it. It hasn't changed his plan, he's still in for the long play, he's used to not getting what he wants so going without her when he desires her is nothing new.

And yet still he finds himself leaning in, watching her as she closes her eyes in expectation of his kiss. Truthfully he's flattered she wants him but it shouldn't have gotten this far and he most certainly cannot allow this event to be repeated or to go beyond this moment.

The moment their lips meet though he feels like he never wants it to stop. For a few seconds it's gentle and loving but then their collective desire is unleashed and he's pulling her body into his with every ounce of strength that he has, she groans and he feels it within him, spurring him on. Despite it all he remembers himself and manages to stop, suddenly releasing her from his tight grasps but staying close.

After a few moments he says, "Don't ever think that you're not desirable. Don't ever think that I wouldn't want you, that there isn't a man alive who wouldn't jump at the chance to have you. What I just did is what I've wanted to do since we met. Never ever think otherwise". He wants to say something else. To explain the how and the why of the unknown history they share but he can't rob himself of the future he has been planning for so long, so instead he bids her goodnight and watches her walk upstairs.

When she's in bed he pours himself another stiff drink. He acknowledges the mistake that he just made. He suppressed the emotions he was feeling before, but there is no getting away from it now. He is conflicted and knows that only distance and clear thought will get him back, bring it all back.

Lizzie wakes up the next day immediately remembering the feel of his lips on hers and the desperate way he pulled her to him. The memory washes over her, leaving her dizzy and breathless.

She gets up and goes for a shower. She wants to be presentable when she sees him, so she takes her time drying her hair, applying a minimal but effective amount of makeup. Leaving her bedroom she goes in search of him, only a little puzzled when he isn't downstairs, Red is an early riser and she's never up before him. Nervously chapping on his bedroom door she waits for a response but when there isn't one she pushes it open, finding the room empty.

Hours pass and still Red doesn't appear, she's growing more and more anxious. It would be just like him to instantly materialise, belittling her concern but he doesn't, and the worry that's been plaguing her all morning reaches fever pitch. She goes back to his bedroom and begins to search; it's not long before she finds the tracking chip, washed clean, on the side of the sink. It feels like the earth falls away, while the focus tightly shifts to her. She staggers from the room, finding her phone and calling it in.

Hours later she's joined by Ressler and Meera in the kitchen of their house. By being here they are effectively blowing their cover, blowing the case. But without Red there is nothing, so it seems inconsequential.

"What the fuck happened?" Ressler says, the fury in his voice evident.

"I don't know" she says.

"Now is not the time to conceal anything from us. We need a blow by blow account, make it quick." Donald says.

"We came home, we didn't say anything. I guess I was a little bristly but I was humiliated by him sidelining me. Fuck! We came in here and he poured a drink, when I made to go to bed we had words" she explains.

"What words?" Donald almost shouts.

"I can't remember exactly, he said I looked good in the dress and I laughed. He said every man there wanted to be with me but I told him it wasn't possible, my own date didn't want me, something to that effect anyway" she says.

"What else, what else Keen?" Donald continues to stare at her, waiting again for her to explain.

"I went to walk upstairs but he stopped me. He was angry I could tell, but hell so was I." She says, holding back still.

"Keen, I swear to god if you don't level with me" Donald says stepping in. She doesn't exactly feel threatened more just a pressure but added to the existing ones it's enough.

"He kissed me. It was only for a few seconds. Then he said something about him having wanted to do it for a while. That was it, I went to bed and when I woke up he was gone" she says, panic welling in her.

"Well that must have been some fucking kiss" Ressler says.

"Yes because sarcasm that's just what we need right now!" She rages, the panic taking over.

"Calm down both of you" Meera says finally stepping in, she's been listening quietly all that time, analysing Lizzie, but she's now satisfied they've gotten the truth. "It's obvious he's gone, we just need to figure out where and why".


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the kind and generous reviews for the first chapter. I hope not to disappoint anyone because I have a clear idea where this story is going and it involves a lot more angst.

I wanted to get a bit more of this out before tomorrow's episode but The Blacklist being The Blacklist I don't think the episode will rule out this as a possibility.

This chapter is a bit shorter than the last but it's important to the story. The reasons are touched on here but they will be fully explained later on.

Now is the Time

Chapter 2

Weeks later they are at the Blacksite, no further forward in their search for Red than on day one. Her shame has dulled to a hollow ache, always with her but no longer all consuming. She misses him; his face, his voice, the support he offered her. It cements her suspicions or at least dismisses any lingering doubt about what she feels for him.

They have turned up exactly nothing in their weeks of searching. Donald knows more about Red than anyone, having hunted him all these years but he can't figure it out. They go back over everything looking for a connection; something that links them, explains why he turned himself in and why he's walked away but they can't make the pieces fit.

Weeks turn to months and there is no sight of him, no message, and no sign. It's almost as if none of it happened. Yet Lizzie can't forget; the man he is or his sacrifice or his attention. She's pale and drawn, the strain of the search and the mystery of it all working on her. Cooper finally insists that she uses some vacation time to rest.

It's the time off that leads her to consider a link between Tom and Red. Perhaps the truth behind her husband's assignment will shed some light on Red's disappearance. She calls it into Ressler, who follows it up but days later when he calls her back she almost regrets the idea that led them there.

Again she's in the briefing room, further interrogation and debriefs finally giving Cooper enough confidence to believe she isn't involved or even in the know about all of it.

Her idea about a link between Tom and Red was like a tiny thread of truth. One that when pulled, began to unravel, revealing not just the link between Tom and Red but the link between Red and her biological father. Within hours they had mapped out the bare bones of a history between the two and while there were many unanswered questions, one thing was crystal clear to them; Red only wants Lizzie for one thing... Revenge.

When the truth of the situation was first spoken aloud it silences the room. Disbelief is the only way to describe how Lizzie feels but soon enough she starts to consider it; up till now she's never had a reason for Red's attention and this is one, no matter how horrific.

Cooper reverts to command mode and starts to formulate a plan for her protection. She spends the next hour arguing that the measures are unnecessary because Red could have taken, hurt or killed her at any number of moments. But Cooper is adamant, she'll be in protective custody until Red is apprehended and her safety can be assured. He explains his conviction that their knowledge will force Red's hand; making him expedite his plans.

Before they leave they inject her with a tracking trip, they make it sound precautionary but she knows if Red finds her it will be her only hope. They travel in a black SUV, out of the city, meeting another almost identical car on an empty road, where they disembark, swapping vehicles, before doubling back to ensure they are not followed. There are countless other counter surveillance measures used but Lizzie is too deep in thought to notice or remember them.

Despite her initial calm, her heart is racing now and she can hear the blood pumping in her ears. The early, easy acceptance of her fate being little more than shock, which gives way and allows the fear to settle; as the gravity of the situation takes hold. The man she'd grown to care about, the man she'd grown to love, the man she searched for for months, only wants her, only ever entered her life because he wants to kill her.

Before the panic gets out of control she pushes it down, forces it to the back of her mind and focuses on her surroundings. Shortly after they pull up to a modest country house. They are greeted by a small team of agents, whom Ressler seems to know and trust. All the same he performs his own security sweep before he lets her out of the car.

"We're good here. Just to be sure we won't stay more than a few days but this isn't even listed as an FBI safe house. He won't find us" Donald explains, looking proud that they've out manoeuvred Red, at least for now.

Lizzie smiles back wondering if he really believes it, because she sure as hell doesn't. She knows Red; she's not safe anywhere. He'll have intel, he'll have a mole and for all she knows it's Ressler. It's little wonder Cooper was so paranoid.

"I can't believe the bastard; all that time, all that work" Ressler shakes his head at the memory of the long hours Liz spent with Red.

"What's the old adage? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. He played a good game" Lizzie says, her tone dry yet eerily desolate.

"Keen I know you're not as calm as you sound, you've got to be reeling from this. Jesus, we knew he would be playing us, we knew he had to be all along, but this?" Donald says, his face red with anger.

"Sorry to disappoint but I do feel calm. He has no more tricks up his sleeve, no more secrets, no more half truths. There's a certainty to events now" she says.

When Donald just looks puzzled in response so she continues, "Think about this Ressler. Think Anslo Garrick but much much smarter, more resourceful and more determined. Revenge is a powerful motive."

Again Donald just stares.

"He's Raymond Reddington. If he wants me dead then I'm as good as dead." She finally says, explaining how she sees it.

"Not on my watch" Donald says but he can't help feel the truth in her words. He's never met a man so resourceful, so single minded, so capable as Raymond Reddington. It makes him feel something for her; fear and more than a measure of sadness.

They stay at the safe house for two nights. The whole time Ressler remains vigilant, sleeping little, demanding regular updates. Lizzie wanders the rooms, ordinarily being trapped inside this way would have her climbing the walls but there is something about her situation that makes her feel detached and alone.

Over the last 48 hours she's had more than enough time to consider her future, however long it is. Does she want to spend what remains running, hiding? She's been betrayed by Tom and now by a Red, both men she realises she never really knew. And yet, her attachment to Red remains intact, not even the bleakness of her reality can severe her bond with him.

There is no doubt in her mind that the information they gathered and the conclusions they've drawn from it are correct, yet she remembers how readily he offered up his life to save her. There seems no way to reconcile these two realities.

But there seems to be one simple course of action available to her. She goes to Ressler and asks him to extend their stay another night. Sounding as casual as she can and stating his need for rest and her desire to get her bearings before they're thrust onwards. At first Ressler isn't convinced but she gives him space and before long he seeks her out confirming that they will in fact stay one more night.

In the hour before she turns in she sneaks in to Ressler's room, borrowing a razor blade and his small first aid kit. It's not stored in an obvious place so she hopes its absence won't be the thing that tips them off.

Then in her room she makes final preparations, putting on a few extra layers of clothes because she's not certain how long it will be before she finds shelter again. Finally, more out of something to do than anything else, she puts her pillow under the covers to act as her body. It may be an awful cliché but if it buys her even a second longer it might be enough. Taking one last deep breath she switches off the light before gently opening the window and slipping out into the woods.

The first 100 metres she stays low and moves cautiously. She's worried about the sound drawing attention to her escape. Her training and her knowledge of their security arrangements is what helps her slip from their grasp. Beyond the main boundary she tries to keep the sound down but she begins to pick up speed. They've checked on her every few hours of the previous nights so she knows her window of escape is limited and it's important to put as much distance between them as possible.

At a nearby stream she uses the razor to cut her arm and remove the tracking chip. She drops the chip into the water; it is light enough to be carried downstream and again it may buy her time. She uses the first aid kit to clean the wound but there is no time to dress it. She pockets a bandage for later and quickly buries the remaining kit in the undergrowth of an obliging tree.

Moving as fast as she can, while listening for any sound that indicates Ressler and the rest from the protection detail haven't fallen for her ruse, she continues on. When she makes it to the highway she follows it, hugging the tree line for more than an hour until she reaches a secluded truck stop.

She calls information and asks for the only number that will get her where she wants to go. Once connected she leaves her name, and the number of the phone, and waits for Mr Kaplan to call back.

In her adrenaline fuelled reality no time passes before the phone rings.

"We need your location" she's told.

Lizzie explains where she is as best she can.

She retreats to the shadows, sinking further in when she sees a dark sedan sweep in to the truck stop, stopping briefly to survey the area before pulling out at high speed.

Not quite an hour later another car appears, slowly pulling into the car park, stopping but leaving its engine idling. She's in the relative safety of the shadows but then the door opens and she sees Mr Kaplan step out from the car, followed by a few heavily armed guards, she knows it's time to show herself. It's not safety, it's certainly not sanctuary but it's what she's been waiting for.

She silently steps out from the shadows, like the moon slipping from beneath the clouds. And like the moon she is somehow immediately luminous to them despite having no light of her own. This is what it feels like to be wanted, to be hunted.

They step towards her, Mr Kaplan herself is quiet but Lizzie feels her concern. Or maybe it's nothing she feels, every other instinct she had has been wrong.

They don't cuff her, they don't lead her, they don't touch her but she's surrounded and quietly escorted to the car.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone for the comments, follows and favs (again some **very** kind comments that I really appreaciate). Sorry if this is a bit too dark for some xx

Chapter 3

In the few minutes before Mr Kaplan called Lizzie back she had called Red to tell him of the development. The news that Lizzie had reached out is met with silence; she can always surprise him but he's shocked she's done this, he didn't want it to be this easy, he wanted not to find her at all.

"Bring her here." He instructs.

"And if she resists?" Kaplan asks.

"She won't" Red says.

"And if she does?" Kaplan pushes further, wondering about the relationship between Red and the FBI woman.

"She's not to be harmed." He says then pauses, "If she needs anything..." Red trails off.

"Of course" Kaplan replies before disconnecting and dialling the number Lizzie left.

* * *

In the car Lizzie has time to think it all through. She knows for certain her instincts are right. If Raymond Reddington wants her then there is no point running, no point hiding. And she thinks Elizabeth Scott Keen is no coward, she won't run from the future but instead, meet it head on.

When they arrive at their destination she's escorted up the steps and handed over to a sombre looking Dembe. He doesn't speak as he leads her inside and she can't bring herself to look at him. Dembe shows her into a dimly lit room, where she thinks, her future awaits.

"What are you doing here?" Red asks looking none too pleased to see her. Is this how it will be from now on she wonders, since he no longer has to hide his distaste?

"I understood you were looking for me." She replies.

He just tilts his head back slightly, "why did you come?" He asks her, his tone hard, almost abrasive.

"I'm sorry if I robbed you of the satisfaction of infiltrating a Blacksite or storming a safe house but I thought there was no point in putting off the inevitable. You wanted me, so here I am" she explains.

"Why did you come?" He asks again, his tone darker still.

Within her anger bubbles but it's tempered by her belief that this is the right course of action. At the very least she's saved the bloodshed that would have been caused if Red had sent someone in to retrieve her. Why has she come? There are a million good reasons but also not a single one. She doesn't respond.

Red stands silently, examining her for a few moments.

"There is blood on your clothing" His statement more of a question, tilting his head to indicate her left arm.

"They put a tracker in; I thought it best if I removed it." She replies without glancing down at the now drying blood.

"Did you clean the wound?" he starts to say something further but as he steps in she flinches. It is the smallest of movements but he sees it.

She recovers quickly, "I did what I could, it's not going to kill me, let's put it that way" she says darkly.

Her words anger him, and it doesn't go unnoticed by her. He wants to say something but he can't comfort her, that would be wrong. Besides, she's lost all faith in him, even if he told her how he felt about her, what he's grown to feel despite every effort, she would never believe it. He's robbed her of trust and faith; she'll believe only violence and greed now.

He extends a hand, indicating that she should sit. She hesitates, wondering why he wishes to remain in her company. They haven't seen each other for months so perhaps he has a genuine interest, or perhaps he wants to know how they finally figured out the Raymond Reddington/Elizabeth Keen mystery.

"Where were you?" He asks when he's certain his anger is under control.

"At a safe house with Ressler and some other field agents" she explains.

He shakes his head and she braces herself for yet another of his G-Men comments, "and what incompetency allowed you to escape undetected."

Despite the uneasy relationship she's had with Ressler she feels herself bristling at the slight, "they are prepared for someone trying to get in, not someone getting out".

"And yet you evaded their security measures and detection long enough to remove a tracking chip and place yourself in great danger" he says.

It makes her pause but then she replies, "I didn't want Ressler or the rest of the team hurt trying to protect me."

"It's their job to protect you, with their lives if necessary" Red says, his tone betraying him, revealing the anger she saw moments ago.

"No, it's not" she says, challenging him again but she can't keep the sorrow from her expression and for him it's almost heartbreaking.

Time passes and they are both lost in thought, it's Red who finally interrupts the silence. "Have you eaten?"

"I had dinner with everyone before I left" it's the truth, she did eat with everyone before she said she was going for an early night, before she lied to them, but it's more that the idea of food is turning her stomach just now.

"Would you like some wine?" He asks quietly, trying to gauge her emotional state from her body language and responses. Her silence worries him, but what would be an appropriate response in a situation like this?

"No" she says shaking her head. "I'd like to get cleaned up if possible" she tells him, thinking about the dirt on her clothes and on her hands following her trip through the woods.

He stands and leads her out of the room, up the stairs and to the left. He stops at the door of a room, opening it and motioning for her to go inside. "You should find everything you need in the bathroom, and there are clothes for you in the wardrobe and dresser" he says stepping back from her.

She walks in and stops in the middle of the room looking around at the furnishings. It's very Red. Or who she thinks him to be; luxuriously decorated with expensive fabrics and furniture.

"If you need anything" he says, leaving the sentence unfinished and stepping in to pull the door closed.

"What do I do? If I need something" she asks, panic rising in her and apparent in her tone. She's exhausted and that's why she's so easily flustered but a quick glance round the room has revealed no telephone or other device, how will she tell someone if she needs something. Will they check on her or just abandon her until she's needed?

"You can chap on my door; my room is across the hall. Or if you prefer you can ask Dembe, he is in the room opposite the staircase" Red says, a frown touching his features.

"I won't be locked in?" She says in disbelief.

"No Lizzie, you are free to roam any area of the house, it has an excellent library and a well stocked kitchen both of which you should feel free to use. The only thing I ask is that you first speak to Dembe or I if you wish to go outside" Red says watching her closely.

She just looks at him. Confused by the casual arrangement he is explaining. He bids her goodnight but she just stands staring as he closes the door and leaves her alone.

The silence in the room leaves her with her own thoughts and that's impetus enough to make her move. In the bathroom she takes a long hot shower, attempting to remove the dirt and some of the tension from her body. It's ineffective on the later but it's still a relief to feel clean. Using what she finds, and what she brought with her, she cleans and dresses the wound from the tracking chip. In the dresser she finds a whole array of clothes, surely more than she'll need for her stay. The thought makes her shiver slightly so she dresses quickly in soft yoga pants and a long sleeved T-shirt and slips into bed.

However, try as she might she can't sleep. Every time she closes her eyes she sees trees, she knows she's running through the forest but she's not sure if the memory is from today, when she ran here or from the night she ran from The Stewmaker. Neither are pleasant memories for her so instead of sleeping she just spends the hours thinking about Sam, her time spent with him, their conversations.

Just after dawn she showers again, dresses in more of the clothing that stocks the dresser and wardrobe and makes her way downstairs. Red hears her from his place at the dining room table. He's surprised she's up so early and he listens to her soft footsteps as she hesitantly makes her way through the rooms finally finding the dining room, pausing when she sees him.

"Good morning" he greets her.

"Morning" she says rather self consciously as she steps into the room.

"There are cereals and fruit for breakfast on the side table or you can have something hot if you prefer" Red tells her, indicating the selection of foods to the side of the room.

"This'll be fine" she says going over and pouring a small amount of cereal and milk.

Red is reading a newspaper, pretending not to watch her but he's using every sense and his peripheral vision to get an idea of what she's doing, how she is. He is aware of her little hesitations, before she finally takes a seat a few places down from him.

He sees that try as she might she can't seem to eat anything. It's not without effort, she stills as if talking to herself, preparing herself or chastising herself for her weakness but it seems of no benefit and she continues to push the cereal around the bowl without consuming anything. Finally she gives up, settling back and nervously rubbing her hands together before stilling and waiting quietly for whatever will happen next.

"Perhaps you'd like to see the library" he says to break her from her thoughts.

Her reactions are slow as she turns to look at him.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" He asks, aware of her lethargic movements.

There seems no answer to his question, or at least none that will stop him asking anything further so she just takes a deep breath and looks away from him.

When he stands she follows, allowing herself to be taken to the library in the back of the house. It's an impressive room, floor to ceiling shelves of books, all leather bound and enticing looking. But it's the view from the window that catches her eye; it was dark when she came in last night so she couldn't have known what was out there.

The front of the house opens up into a large lawn, which drops away slightly 30 metres from the house but then continues. Some distance away the area is surrounded by trees but the sweep of the grass as it extends into the distance is mesmerising. It's obviously well maintained, as far as her naked eye can see it's carefully cut and cared for. The interior ground manicured perfectly, and while the area beyond is similar; it also retains the natural undulations of the earth, slightly rising and falling in a hypnotic way.

Red watches as she settles in a seat at the window, the seat that he prefers when he is in this house, himself captivated by the wide expanse of the garden. Hours pass and she doesn't speak, he lets her be, lets her consider all the details her eye can pick out. When tea arrives he prepares her a cup and serves it to her without a word. She takes the offered cup and he's relieved to see her drink from it.

Another hour passes and he thinks it's time for a change of scenery. Or at least to move from looking at it, to getting into it. Fresh air will undoubtedly do her good. He goes upstairs to her room and chooses a warm sweater that she can wear outside. It's not a particularly cold day but he wants her to be comfortable.

When he returns she's just as before, "Lizzie, why don't we step outside, look a bit more closely at the grounds".

She thinks for a beat then slowly rises from her seat, taking the sweater he offers. They silently go outside and make their way to the grounds they've been watching for the window.

Lizzie steps almost reverently onto the grass of the main lawn. It's soft underfoot, cushioning her steps. She closes her eyes, breathes again, enjoying the slight weightless feeling that it gives her. Around her she can hear birds and in the distance the unmistakable sound of the sea. She doesn't know where they are, she doesn't know what will happen to her but there is a peace from this.

Red can feel it, the release of the tension she was holding, it's not all gone, not by a long measure but there is a lifting. He lets her guide the way as she meanders around the manicured lawn. Finally she reaches the steps, leading down to the larger garden. Red is somewhere behind her, giving her space, leaving a distance, so she turns to look at him, almost asking permission. He nods his head as their eyes meet and she holds his gaze for a moment before making her way down the stairs.

"This is beautiful" she says softly but just loud enough for him to hear.

He closes the distance between them, not able to stop himself accompanying her on the journey that he himself has made so many times alone.

This time she chooses a more deliberate path, walking the periphery and using the distance to watch the rise and fall of the ground. About a quarter of the way round she stops and turns back to the house.

"Are you tired?" He asks her, assuming that's why she's stopped.

She nods her head in response, "I'd like to go back now".

He starts back first, moving away for the edge and toward the centre of the garden. She follows and he adjusts his pace until she catches up. They walk back in silence.

When she gets back she goes up to the room she's using, closes the door and lies on the bed fully clothed. But still she doesn't sleep.

Red waits for her to emerge but she doesn't, she hasn't eaten, she's had nothing to drink but the tea in the library. Tomorrow he might need to push a little harder.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Hi, thanks for the messages and support. Especially to JJ for the encouragement! Also to the guest reviewer who has been leaving very kind messages – I so appreciate it and glad you are enjoying this story xx**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter – their time together. Next chapter life begins to change xx**

Chapter 4

When Red comes down the next morning she's already in the library, looking out at the view. He brings her tea and waits while she drinks it, hardly removing her eyes from the world outside.

Lizzie is exhausted, another sleepless night leaving her with a feeling of lethargy and despondency, an isolated detachment. When she blinks it feels like her eyelids scrape her eyes. If sleep wasn't so elusive she wonders if she would indulge in it, or if the memories of her flight through the woods would still haunt her. The combination of everything she is feeling is again leading her to a calm indifference.

Maybe it's the idea of her imminent death that's liberating. Lizzie pretends it's that at least. She doesn't want to analyse it, she doesn't want to acknowledge the reason for her surrender. But what is left to live for when your husband turns out to be the hired help, the only father you've known is dead, your biological father lives a life like you don't exist and the man you love intends to kill you for revenge?

Somewhere in her sleep deprived brain she's aware of Red, waiting, watching, standing guard.

"You don't have to watch me" she says, surprised at the sound of her own voice as it breaks the silence. "I have no intention of escaping, if that's what you're worried about".

"Why don't we get something to eat" Red says, ignoring her prickly comment, knowing it's the exhaustion talking.

Again she follows him where he leads, finding herself back in the dining room, this time set up for lunch; has the day really progressed so far? In front of her there is a bowl of soup and to the side a warm bread roll. She sits still as the soup begins to cool but then without prompting she uses her knife to cut the roll, lifting a small piece and eating it. Red would let out a sigh of relief if he didn't think it would disturb her.

When they finish he goes again to retrieve a sweater, bringing it to her and they go outside. This time they walk all around the extended gardens of this house, enjoying the view of the sweeping lawn from each side.

When they return she surprises him by staying downstairs, going back to the sitting room where he'd waited for her that first night.

He enters, seeing her settled in the seat she'd occupied previously.

"Would you like a glass of wine" he offers.

"Yes please" she says in response.

He pours them both a modest glass. She hasn't slept; this small amount alone would be enough to leave her inebriated.

Together they sit in silence, drinking the wine he has poured for them.

"Did you buy these clothes?" she asks after a long silence. She herself cannot believe that this is what she's asking, given all the questions she could have started with but it's been on her sleep addled mind.

"Yes. Are they not to your taste?" He asks.

"No. I mean yes. They are beautiful. Really great but I'm not sure they're me. I think I'm not cut out for Chanel, if you see what I mean" even to her own ears she sounds a little tipsy. She's noticed all of the clothes have designer labels; she wonders why he's concerned about how she's dressing.

"Remember what I told you Lizzie. Chanel suits you just fine" he says.

Her head spins from his words; it's the first time they've acknowledged the night of his departure. Red looks at his watch, it's only early evening but he thinks sleep would do her more good than dinner.

"You haven't been sleeping; it may be clouding your thoughts. I have some rather potent sleeping pills if you would like to try them" he offers.

Ordinarily she's not a sleeping pill type of person, she hates the residual drowsiness they all too often being, but in her state of exhaustion it's too tempting an offer to pass up so she nods her head.

He nods in response and she hears an almost imperceptible, "good".

They walk upstairs and she sits on the side of the bed in the room that's not hers but that she's been using. Red returns carrying a glass of water and two small pills. He passes them to her and for the briefest of moments their hands touch. She's forgotten how electrifying contact with him can be. Even in this state of exhaustion she blushes at her foolishness. He feels nothing for her yet she's still affected.

She takes the pills and lowers herself onto her side, then lifts her legs onto the bed. She's still dressed but she doesn't care. Red wishes her a good night and she closes her eyes against the exhaustion, the wine and now the pills, and he takes a moment to watch her.

When she hears the door close it rouses her slightly, she slips the sweater over her head, leaving it on the bed beside her and immediately slips into sleep. Despite how elusive it's been on the past few evenings, tonight is comes easy and she drifts quickly into a deep slumber.

But the memories that have been keeping her awake the past few nights come to visit her quickly and strongly. In moments she's in the grip of the terror that's been plaguing her, that's she's fought so hard to suppress. She's running through the trees it a desperate bid to escape yet all too quickly she's caught and in the cabin. She can't see but she can hear The Stewmaker as he moves around. She feels the excruciating hot pain as he inserts the needle into her shoulder. She screams, her head dipping back until she sees his face, but it's not Stanley Kornish, tonight the face of her torturer is Red.

She wakes, the scream from her dream a reality. It echoes around the room, carrying her worst fears, her anxiety.

"Lizzie" Red says already making his way across the room, approaching the side of her bed.

"It was just a dream" Red says, reaching out to touch her, to comfort her. But his touch brings a wave of terror and prompts another involuntary sound, not as loud as before but as expressive. It leaves her panting, panicked.

"It's over" he says.

She scrambles from the bed, retreating from him, closing and locking the bathroom door and only just making it to the toilet, her body intent of purging the sparse content of her stomach.

"Lizzie" Red says from the door, concern in his tone. But she's groggy, sleep deprived and terrified. Tears stream down her face as she shakily makes it to her feet.

"Lizzie, I'm coming in" he says just as calmly but she hears his word like a threat and starts to look around the room for any sort of protection.

Instantly she's knocking things from the shelves, panic clouding her judgement and her vision. Finally she grasps the glass beside the sink, smashing it on the wash hand basin and clutching the largest shard as Red opens the door and steps into the room.

"Don't come any closer to me" she threatens.

Red lifts his hands', showing her he's empty handed and poses no danger. He can hear her fast laboured breathing and he knows she feels cornered.

"I'm going to go out to the bedroom and I want you to come out when you're ready. Leave the glass in the sink and I'll clean it up" he says stepping away and leaving her alone.

She continues to panic but the peak has passed and before long she feels the sting from her palm, the sharp glass having lacerated the skin in several places. Still she stands there, breathing, adjusting, and allowing the worst of her terror and the memories of the dream to seep away.

Slowly she turns to the sink, wincing as she opens her hand, dropping the substantial fragment into the debris. She walks to the door, pausing slightly before she sees Red. The adrenaline is leaving her body so she doesn't even have the energy to worry what he thinks, let alone be embarrassed about her actions. The memory of her dream and her knowledge of the future is affecting her body, making her tremble.

She rests on the door frame, looking at him. He stands passively at the other side of the room, hoping to give her space while wanting to tend to her. She walks to the bed, sits on the side again, blood trickling through her fingers and dropping to the floor.

He quietly walks passed her and goes into the bathroom to get the things he needs to clean and dress the cuts to her hands.

When he emerges she's sitting the same as before, her eyes downcast, fear and sorrow written all over her face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks.

She just closes her eyes, her breathing breaking into a sob that she immediately regrets.

"Lizzie, I'm going to touch you. I need to see your hand and see how deep the cuts are" he tells her then waits a moment before he makes contact. She doesn't flinch, he's glad of it, his warning was obviously heard despite the detachment he sees in her countenance.

He doesn't know what to do for her, he doesn't know how to ease what she feels or help her through this so he does the only thing that he can think of. He tells her the truth. The unadulterated, unedited, honest truth about how they are connected and how this whole situation came to be. It's the very least he can do for her. So as he starts to tend to her he starts to tell her about the past.

"Your biological father and I were colleague of sorts, friends even, at least at one time. We trained alongside each other at the Naval Academy, rising through the ranks, making a name for ourselves. However it was me who graduated top of the class, received offers of positions on elite task forces, coveted positions the two of us had always talked about. I was being groomed for Admiral, a position he so desperately wanted and he knew that I had no desire to attain. He never tried to hide his disgust; your father always was a bitter man. Greedy, sadistic and immeasurably bitter. He hated to be outdone but as you can well imagine, nothing stopped me from getting what I thought I deserved." Red stops there, moving to get a towel, and then continuing with his task.

"After my family vanished he contacted me, it was the first I knew of his involvement, he wasn't directly involved in the operation but he instigated and had full knowledge of it. He provided falsified evidence that left those responsible with no choice but to move against me. For a long time he took great pleasure in taunting me with supposed details of their gruesome deaths. Years of torture, my dreams filled with the visions he created; my days spent in a futile search to prove him wrong. Before it happened I would never have thought him cunning enough but he struck just before I became too powerful, before I was beyond his reach. Everyone else involved has been dealt with, only your father remains and it is personal to me. What he told me may turn out to be lies but years of not knowing have left me as bitter as he."

"Why keep me here? Why keep me alive? If you want me dead then kill me Red. Do you want to do it in front of my father? To have him see? He won't care, don't you see that? I'm sorry you won't get the satisfaction you deserve, kill me and take what you can from it but you won't be causing him any pain." She says, her voice a hollow empty shell.

"He doesn't care, you're right. But your father is as proud as he is bitter, and you are blood of his blood, flesh of his flesh. It may not hurt him but believe me it will wound him". Red tells her.

She just continues to stare off, her eyes glazed over.

"Lizzie, why did you come here?" he asks her again, still in the dark about her motives.

"Is there anywhere I could have gone that you wouldn't have found me? We both know there isn't. Besides, I felt like I owed you, after everything you've done for me. And I feel like my father owes you, after everything he did to you" she says finally meeting his eyes. "What have I got to live for? No father to speak of, no husband, no child, no Red" as she says the last words her voice drops away.

He marvels at this woman. Willing to sacrifice herself for a man she doesn't know. Giving herself to him because it seems just in her eyes. Yet this isn't her; this is fear, sleep deprivation and exhaustion talking. His Lizzie is stronger than this, coming to him to meet her fate head on. He regrets ever involving her in this but he's only part to blame, it is her father who arranged for her to meet her husband, for the life she led to be a lie. At some point they'll all have to pay for their crimes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi, I am posting again so soon because I'm out at a teaching conference tomorrow (a la Tom Keen - except I'm driving, paying for my own fuel and not at all involved in the murder of Viktor Fokin -) ) and I can't see me updating before Sunday/Monday. **

**This is still dark and angsty but I've got the feels too ;-)**

**Thank you again lovely reviewers' xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chapter 5

Life continues like this for a number of days. Through his subtle and delicate attention he gets her to eat more and though she doesn't sleep through the night she naps in the library, in the sitting room and only in his presence.

For a few days at least they both find, in that house, in the garden and in each other's company, a peaceful coexistence. Though they know that life is not destined to continue like this, they enjoy the chance to exist, in the vacuum between the past and future. This reality is a reprieve for both of them.

Just under a week later he comes to her, while she's waiting on him in the sitting room. "It's time" he says simply and she looks down briefly before standing and walking to him. She considers the type of person she wants to be. The type that's dragged wailing and begging to the gallows or the type that walks with dignity and pride. She's opting for the second choice, she shouldn't care what he thinks but she knows Raymond Reddington will respect her for it.

He has her coat over his arm and as she approaches he holds it out, helps her to slip it on. It's a tiny gesture but it makes her think of the past, of how life was and for the briefest of moments, how it could have been.

In the car she says, "You seem to know more about me than anyone, you seem to know the truth when all I've known is the deceit, so I wondered if you'd answer a question for me".

"If I can, if I think it will make things easier for you" he replies.

"Easier" she says huffing out a dry laugh that he chooses to ignore. "Knowing Tom was employed by my father, and that you got close to me to draw him out, I wonder if there has ever been anyone who's ever loved me for me."

"I'm truly sorry that you had to be involved in this Lizzie" he says.

"If not me then some other poor soul. At least I've got no one to mourn me. Is this why you advised against the adoption? So the child wouldn't be orphaned? If it is then ... Well, that was the right thing to do. So many of your actions make sense to me now. It's like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. You must have laughed at how blind I was." she says quietly before looking out into the distance, like she's lost in thought, she then quietly continues, "Were you disgusted when you realised how I felt about you? I didn't see it. I felt like I was the centre of your universe, it was seductive. I was wrong, I get that now."

"Lizzie" he says but he holds back from touching her, from wrapping her in his arms and whisking her away from all of this anger, all of the bitterness, all of the sadness that he's lived with for so long. The car slows; the area they are in is far more rural. She knows they are getting close, close to wherever they are going, close to the end.

She turns her body to him, lifts her head but doesn't meet his eyes, "I want to ask you something, and I know I've no right. You can lie to me if you want, if you can manage such a kindness." She stops, her brow furrowing further. He studies her, waits to hear what she has to say, his heavy heart dreading the words.

"I can't imagine what's about to happen but I'd like not to die alone. It doesn't have to be you, Dembe even. But I need to feel like there's someone there." As she finishes speaking she tilts her head back further, resting it on the head rest, her vision blurring, the effort to focus too much.

Again he wants to say something, to comfort her in her greatest time of need but he can't. Just a while longer, he thinks to himself, and this will all be over.

Just as Dembe pulls up outside an isolated farmhouse he leans over to her, allows himself to touch her hand, "This is very important Lizzie. Whatever happens, whatever you hear and whatever you see others do, keep your eyes on me, listen only to my words. Do you understand?"

She looks round at him, surprised by the softness she sees in his eyes, "yes" she whispers.

He offers her a small, subtle, conciliatory smile before he exits the car and walks around to open her door. He lightly holds her upper arm, leading her around the house to the agreed rendezvous point, each side having assessed the benefits and drawbacks of such a rural location.

Red, Liz and Dembe walk in silence to a clearing twenty metres behind the house, as they round the corner both Red and Dembe draw their weapons. She doesn't lift her head but she can see at least three figures opposite them and another two keeping guard from the perimeter. They are outnumbered and as a result, outgunned. She frowns; this isn't like Raymond Reddington.

Red releases her arm and she takes a few steps away from him. Standing off to the side; her eyes fixed on him, like she agreed.

"Hello Red" the man in the centre of the three opposite them says.

Red only responds with the shallowest dip of his head.

"And this I suppose this is my long lost daughter. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? Come and say hello to your old man" her father continues.

At the word daughter Lizzie almost turns her head but she seems a subtle tightening around Red's eyes, a flexing of his jaw, and it's enough to hold her gaze.

"What's the matter Elizabeth, cat got your tongue? According to your husband you're quite the talker. Bit of a screamer too sometimes" he father says his tone turning caustic.

"Enough!" Red almost shouts in his most commanding voice. But it's too late, the words have cut Lizzie to the bone and instead of looking at Red she drops her head in shame. "Look at me Lizzie" Red says directly to her, without breaking eye contact with the men opposite, his voice low so those around won't know his words.

"Why'd you bring her? You think I care what happens to the little FBI bitch?" Her father asks, laughing at them.

Red's anger flares. He wonders how the man can speak this way to and about his own daughter when he'd done everything he could to protect his. He wonders how he could have stayed out of her life, failed to learn about the person she is, neglected to acknowledge her achievements. "You haven't changed. You've always something to say, some derogatory remark to belittle those around you and buoy up your own fragile ego".

Hearing Red's voice, trading insults with her father makes Lizzie lift her head. She sees the anger in his eyes, the fury in his tight grip on the firearm.

"What do you want Red?" Her father finally asks.

"What I want is often of so little consequence. Moreover what I want is impossible to achieve. But I'll settle for your death" Red tells him, lifting his gun and aiming it, not at her father but at Lizzie.

After a moment of silence her father says, "Go ahead".

Lizzie looks past the gun, directly at Red. It all happens so very fast but her eyes focus on him and she sees his lips moving, understands the words 'get down', instantly and without question she drops to the ground. Even before the action is complete the air is filled with the sound of gunfire and Red steps in to shield her.

A bullet from across the divide, catches her as she sinks to the ground, just before Red's body has hers completely guarded. It grazes her forehead, slipping over the hairline as she falls. As darkness consumes her she wonders if this is the end or a lucky escape.

* * *

There's a beeping, a high pitched persistent beeping somewhere close by. It's steady but trill, possibly the most annoying noise ever heard. Lizzie wants a glass of water, she wants something for the pain in her head, she wants a lot of things but above all she desperately wants the noise to stop.

Battling against the temptation to return to the relative comfort and safety that the darkness offers she fights to open her eyes. The lights around her are too bright; increasing the pain she feels. Little by little she adjusts, allowing her to examine the room that she is in.

It's obviously a hospital room, and the monitors and wires she sees explain the bleeping. It hurts her head to move but she reaches over, silencing the noise permanently.

_Not dead_, she thinks to herself. It's not a surprising thought; she considers it from a distance, unemotionally, but with a little wonder. But her thoughts are interrupted by the door opening and Ressler walking in.

"Ah good, you're awake" he says.

"What's with the machines?" She says, indicating the monitor and other medical paraphernalia.

"Precautionary." Ressler says, shrugging his shoulders. "Head wound. Well, graze might be more accurate but there was some blood loss and the doctor said something about trauma."

Lizzie thinks for a moment, while Ressler takes his seat, and then asks the question, "Where is he?"

"Gone." Is all Ressler says, he short explanation enough for the moment.

They sit in silence, considering the events of the past few months.

"He's a fugitive again, the deal is over. No more immunity, no more FBI help in his misguided crusade." Ressler offers by way of further information.

She nods her head, wincing at her forgotten injury, "what happened?"

"He called me, right off the bat. You hadn't even been picked up by his people yet. He had a plan and said we either followed it or we wouldn't be involved. Cooper almost had a freaking coronary, Jesus so did I. But it was his way or the highway. You know what a stubborn son of a bitch he can be" he says.

"He didn't plan to kill me?" She asks.

"The hell if I know" Ressler responds.

They return to silence, while she considers everything Ressler told her and everything she knew or thought she knew about Raymond Reddington. Without doubt she's fated to spend many hours that way.

The next day she is released from hospital, sent home to recuperate from what is a minor injury. But the FBI take her in before she has a chance to begin the healing process, spending hours grilling her about her now deceased father, 'in the wind' Raymond Reddington, her escape from the safe house, and her involvement in any and all crimes committed.

She had little to tell them. What she learned about that night came from Ressler and Meera, or through the details the FBI themselves let slip during her interrogation.

The deal Red struck with Ressler meant that they weren't outgunned, not by a long shot. Red had asked for a small team, headed up by Ressler and told them to stand their ground some distance from the meeting place until they heard the signal; a signal that turned out to be gunfire.

Cooper had of course reneged on the agreement, arranging for a small army to be ready to move in. Red had only just slipped their grasp; a testament to his foresight and contingency planning. It earned Lizzie an immediate suspension and almost a demotion for Ressler, but he hadn't kept Cooper in the dark so in the end he kept his job.

The interrogation over, they return her to her own home. The parting words from Cooper leave her in no doubt that they are dissatisfied with her answers. She knows it's only a matter of time before it costs her her job; you can't go to work at the FBI every day with a Reddington sized black cloud of suspicion hanging over you.

Weeks pass and she's still on suspension, while they try to deal with the aftermath of the shoot out. The death of her father left a hole at the top of his organisation that many desired to fill, which resulted in more bloodshed. Lizzie's employment status takes a back seat while the body count rises.

During this time she's contacts by a lawyer, wanting to inform her about her father's will. At first she hangs up on them, saying she wants none of his money but when they start turning up at her door she realises she'll have to deal with it.

While she might be out in the cold with the FBI she still gets visits and calls from Ressler. She wonders if he still has contact with Red; he checks on her more than anyone, seems to have more interest in her recovery. Despite their history, it was Ressler that Red decided to contact, decided to rely on. Maybe he still is. One afternoon, when he's popped over, in the guise of returning a few of her personal belongings from the Blacksite, she thinks it's time to send a message.

"Donald" she says using the name she rarely uses but Red frequently does. "I'm ok." She says. "I was a means to an end, I get that. One day I'll look back and shut the door on this, but I think as hard as I try I'll never quite be able to forget him".

Donald looks at her for a moment, he seems uncomfortable. "Listen Liz" he begins, then adjusts his stance and clears his throat in an awkward type of cough, "I don't want this to come across as romantic or whatever, I'm just trying to be a good friend here. But when you look back, try to look passed the bull shit and the lies, there has to be something beyond that, right?".

"Oh yes. Very romantic. Watch out Hallmark don't try to poach you away from the FBI" she says laughing at his attempts to guide her.

Ressler just rolls his eyes, dismissing her criticism. He knows she gets it. "He didn't leave straight away that night, he knew the task force would be moving in, he knew he risked arrest and a lifetime in a hole in some desolate Blacksite, but he wouldn't leave until he knew you'd live".

Emotion grips her, constricting her throat and making speech impossible so she just nods her head to acknowledge the words.

"So what's your plan for next week?" Donald asks to shift the conversation away from a topic he's becoming less and less comfortable with.

"I should be in New York on Monday. I think there will be days of meetings, paperwork to look over and sign off on. I don't want a penny of his money but giving it away is proving difficult. Plus there's some legitimate family money, much of it still tied up. I have the feeling this is going to drag on" she says to explain the complicate affair to Ressler.

"Any plans to see the city?" He asks further.

His question prompts a small frown for her. Suspicion is too strong a word, but Ressler never asks this many questions. Maybe he's here in an official FBI capacity, making sure she doesn't flee the country with her father's millions. "I might treat myself to lunch with what is surely going to be my last government pay check" she tells him with the smirk, which belies the apprehension she feels about the future.

When he leaves she switches on her computer and finds a nice hotel she can stay in. Despite what she's about to inherit she sticks to a budget. What she told Ressler is true; she wants nothing from her father. Before she logs off she sees a restaurant advertisement and she thinks about her throwaway remark about lunch.

As she is always tempted to do but finds little time to indulge, she spends the next hour browsing page after page of restaurant listings. Some are way beyond her price range and not really her scene; something about old school elegance seems to make her feel at home recently. The process leaves her hungry so she orders takeout and returns to her task.

Later when she's eaten she manages to book a table at a well thought of uptown establishment that's been around longer than she has. Then there's nothing to it but to look forward to her moment of indulgence.

The days fly by and before she knows it she's a few days into her trip, countless meeting attended and countless more to go. But today is the day for her little luxury and so she's in a taxi and headed towards the restaurant.

Upon entering she approaches the reservations desk, "I have a one o'clock reservation" she states. "Agent keen?" the maître d' asks. She gave her name for the booking, she gave a contact number even, but at no time did she mention she was a federal agent. This does not bode well for a quiet lunch.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Here is my final chapter. I hope you enjoy it. **

**Thank you for all the reviews, favourites and follows. I very much appreciate it xx**

Now is the Time

Chapter 6

The maître d' takes her coat, passing it to another member of staff, "follow me please". Nervously and with her eyes downcast, she follows him. As they approach the table she sees movement, someone stands and she knows without looking that it's Red.

"Hello Lizzie" he says in his usual warm and welcoming tone. His hand touches her elbow as he leans in and kisses her on the cheek. Lizzie doesn't respond. She is only a little surprised but she's also slightly overwhelmed and those things combined are keeping her silent. She just watches him as he pulls out her seat, waiting until she's settled before taking his again.

He's missed her, the sight of her, and the warmth of her skin. It is all he can do to sit, resisting the very strong temptation to touch her more, to kiss her, to show her how he feels.

When she meets his eye he smiles at her, she wants to ask him why he's here. Wants to be tough on him, to demand honest answers to difficult questions, finally something she can know and trust, but she doesn't know how to form the words or where to begin. Maybe there is no truth to reveal, no story for Red to tell.

The waiter arrives with menus, and Red orders champagne. He's either glad to see her or he's determined to maintain his usual high standards. When he speaks she watches his lips, of all the things she remembered about him this was the detail that she couldn't get out of her head. Not just watching the way his lips moved but remembering the feel of them against her own. She sometimes thinks that that is the truth Donald told her to seek. Words can have a double meaning, hold the darkest untruths, but it's harder to be dishonest with such naked emotions.

"You look beautiful Lizzie. I haven't seen that dress before." Red says, as charming as ever.

"The spoils of my father's colourful career" she says, meeting his eye in challenge. She bought the dress with her own money but he doesn't need to know that.

"You're keeping the money?" Red asks.

"No. But it seems my father had some legitimate businesses and I suspect I'm about to find myself out of a job, I might need something to tide me over." she says, and this is the crux of the matter. Necessity might dictate her actions when every instinct makes her want to be done with it all. Despite everything she once again finds herself telling Raymond Reddington the truth. What is it about the man?

"Why do you think Harold will fire you?" He asks.

"Well my father was a high profile criminal, a fact I had some knowledge of but chose not to disclose. Despite my extensive training as a profiler I was taken in by another high profile criminal hell bent on vengeance, who used me and the FBI to do his bidding. But mostly they need a scapegoat and I'm too tired to deflect their attention onto anyone else" she explains.

"I am truly sorry, I know your job meant a great deal to you. I realise what I put you through was deeply distressing and I don't know if I'll ever be able to make it up to you, but know that I hope to try" Red explains.

"The cost of doing business" she says, her voice full of contempt, though truthfully with him here, she doesn't feel that way.

"No Lizzie" he says, his tone flat, his eyes hard and fixed on her. "Though I was prepared to die to get the revenge I wanted I would never have allowed anyone to hurt you. I knew from the moment I met you that I'd sent myself on a fool's errand. In the end I wanted you with me so he knew that I wasn't prepared to do to him what he'd done to me" He stops, takes a breath before continuing, "But you never asked me, when you came to me, you never once asked if it was true. Was there no doubt?"

She feels such confusion, her thought and her very memories on shaky ground. This could be yet more lies? But for what purpose? What is his play? Then thinking of his words she considers that she didn't ask him outright, that she never challenged him to explain or questioned his intentions.

Her brain is muddled; these thoughts are all too complicated for her already busy mind, so she doesn't respond. Instead she drinks her champagne and enjoys the lunch that she promised herself. She even enjoys the proximity and company of a man she once believe loved her and once believed was about to kill her. Life is a complicated business.

* * *

Red and Lizzie continue their lunch. Business dealings, experience and more than a few sticky situations mean Red has the ability to keep the conversation flowing. He asks her about her trip to New York, the meetings she's had and still to have with the lawyers and the sights she plans to visit.

He recommends a tiny hole in the wall noodle shop way down town, before long he's waxing lyrical about the Gyoza dumplings, and he is rewarded by a warm nostalgic smile from Lizzie, before she drops her head and her cheeks are engulfed in a hot blush. Listening to him talking reminds her of old times, moments between them that prove to be happy and genuine memories. "I'll try it" she tells him.

"How long are you staying in the city?" He asks her.

"A few days, a week maybe. As long as it takes, maybe longer" she tells him with a shrug of her shoulders, not committing to a future that's still so uncertain.

"Let me take you to dinner tomorrow night" he says, watching her reactions carefully.

She stills, wondering not for the first time about his motivation. What can he possibly gain from asking her to dinner? And if he has nothing to gain, what game is he playing? Her thoughts are interrupted by the waiter arriving with their meal.

Red compliments her on the choice of restaurant and the rest of the meal continues in comfortable conversation. He doesn't mention dinner again, which is a relief because she doesn't know what to say.

When the bill comes she makes to reach for it, determined to pay her share but he scoops it up and hands it over before she can even find her purse. She starts to protest, expecting him to make some quip about being a gentleman but when she looks into his eyes her breath catches. His expression is soft, warm and tender and she can't think why she wanted to argue with him or any words to say. Everything but the way he looks at her is inconsequential.

Red offers her a lift back to her hotel which she graciously accepts, wanting just a little more time in his company. With Dembe driving they head through the streets of the city, everything about the journey reminding her of countless trips they've made before.

When they pull up he gets out to open her door and escorts her into the lobby of her hotel. She's a little embarrassed, wishing she'd splashed out a bit more. This is a man who turns his nose up at the Sheraton. He must be horrified.

"Where are you staying?" she asks him, more to distract herself than anything.

He smiles at her, tilts his head in that very Raymond Reddington playful way. "You're the profiler, you tell me" he says.

Lizzie lifts her eyebrow in lieu of an eye roll. "You know how many hotels there are in New York? I'm a profiler, not a psychic."

"But you know me Lizzie. You know what I like, the comforts I enjoy. I'd bet you already know in your head and you're just being coy" Red smirks.

"If I had to guess I'd say The Carlyle, or something of that ilk" she says in an exasperated tone, trying to cover the humour in her voice.

Red just smiles back at her, looking delighted at her and their little game.

But a frown crosses Lizzie's face, concern for him suddenly replacing every other emotion she was feeling, "they're looking for you, hunting you Red".

"I know sweetheart but remember I spent 20 years evading them and believe me it was not a particularly trying task, just ask Donald." he says stepping closer and offering her a reassuring smile.

He lets out a shaky breath, nodding at the truth of his words.

Red steps closer still, lifts a hand and gently cups her jaw. He leans in and delicately kisses her on the mouth. He doesn't attempt to linger, doesn't push to take more that she is willing to give but he savours the moment, the feel of her smooth skin, and the warmth of her soft lips.

He steps back and gives her a moment to gather herself and then he says, "You asked me if anyone had ever loved you. What I wanted to tell you that night and every moment since is that you are loved and you always will be."

Lizzie hears the words he speaks and his genuine tone, her breathing more ragged now and moisture gathering in her eyes that she tries to blink back. "Thank you" she says when she's certain she can get the words out.

He delicately brushes her cheek with his thumb the slowly withdraws. She watches him leave, watches as he gets in the car and as the car pulls away. She wonders if she'll ever see Raymond Reddington again or if this was their goodbye and that their goodbye kiss. He came so unexpectedly into her life; it would be just like him to melt away.

Standing in the lobby, looking out into the street at a person and a car that are no longer there she measures the time it took to trust him against the time it took to lose that trust. She swallows hard, thinking she did him an injustice but that it was not completely without cause.

* * *

The next day she has meetings back to back. Her father's lawyer is pleasant enough, but years of doing business in the shadowy side of society has given him the belief that his opinions carry weight, and he looks on Elizabeth as a young, foolish and possibly naive girl. He is indignant about her plan to give her inheritance to charity, freely offering his opinion where it's not needed and not wanted. It seems he knew her father well and while he had no in-depth knowledge about his criminality, he respected the man enough to see her actions as a slight upon his memory.

Lizzie doesn't want to be high handed, doesn't want to just tell him to mind his own business and do the job that he's being paid to do so it turns into a battle of wills. They argue repeatedly around the issue while he parades in associates, financial advisors and anyone he can think of in order to change her mind.

The more he argues the more entrenched she becomes. She'd told Red she might find herself in need of the money that her father had legitimately amassed but the more she defends her position the more hateful the idea becomes. Everything about who she tells her that she'll never be happy keeping it.

Finally she reaches breaking point. She tries to sound as calm as she can and says, "I've made my decision. I've explained it to you a thousand times. I want nothing from him. Not a penny. Not one single penny. The cash can go immediately, the other assets liquidated and the money donated once you've taken your cut".

The lawyer is all red faced, astounded that she's still intent on going against his good advice. "Not comfortable with the money your father gifted you but comfortable enough in the company of Raymond Reddington" he spits out.

Lizzie feels like she's been slapped. It silences her for a few moments, while she reels from the implied insult. She can feel her anger mounting and she's determined to be done with him before he has the satisfaction of seeing the effect he's had on her.

"While you may have known my father, don't presume to know me. I want the papers drawn up and couriered to me. I'll make any changes I require, sign and return them to you. I have no wish to see you again or to discuss this matter further." As she says this she stands and moves to the door. She turns to him, nods her goodbye and makes her way out to the elevator.

At the kerb Red is leaning on the car, his fedora shielding his eyes from the sun, guaranteeing him a perfect view of Lizzie when she exits the building.

He hasn't been waiting long, his knowledge of the lawyer and his reputation for verbosity helping to time his arrival.

Each second that passes Lizzie feels her fury grow exponentially. By the time she exits the building and makes her way through the courtyard toward the street she has to brush angry tears away.

Her vision is blurry so she's not aware yet that Red can see her, or that he's making his way towards her, an expression of concern darkening his features. She takes another swipe at the tears then lifts her eyes and that's when she sees him, quickly closing the gap between them, removing his hat.

When he reaches her he envelopes her in a tight embrace. "Lizzie?" He says, a question in his tone. But she is too overwhelmed to speak. She wasn't even sure she'd see him again yet here he is, just when she needs him. Her breathing is ragged as she continues the battle to suppress the anger she feels. Slowly she starts to calm, taking a deep, more even breath.

"Sweetheart, just tell me who's ass I need to kick" he says, half serious, half in jest. But it's enough to help her shake the rest of the tension she feels and she smiles despite everything that's happened.

"I'm sorry" she says against his shoulder.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Red asks her but she just shakes her head. If she tells him that the lawyer used his name against her, to goad her, she's afraid he might just make good on his ass kicking threat.

She moves to step back and he releases her from his grasp. "I'm sorry." She says again, shaking her head. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you. Dinner, remember?" Red replies.

Lizzie just stands, the departure of the anger making her feel empty and lost, "I don't know what I'm doing Red. Please just tell me what to do because I've had enough of this stumbling about in the dark" Lizzie says looking downcast.

"First you're going to accept my offer of help. My people can deal with this" he says lifting his hat and using it to indicate the lawyer's office behind them, "so you don't have to worry about it again. Then you're going to take me up on my offer of dinner".

She looks off to the side, her eyes dropping to the ground as she battles inwardly about accepting what he has to offer, accepting everything he has to offer.

"I need to be able to trust you" she says.

"You can, and given enough time you will" he says.

"What do you want?" She asks him straight out.

"I want my second chance." He says meeting her eyes.

"I don't know what that is or what it means" she tells him.

"I want you Lizzie. I want you to trust me again. I want the things that you want; a life with someone, a family. I know you loved me once and I hope you can again because I love you, with every fibre of my being, and I'm not going to be able to leave you, even if you ask me to" he says taking her hand and lifting it to his lips.

"Red" she says, her voice thick with emotion. "I've got nothing; no family, no money, no job. I need this to be real".

"It is real and you have me. I'd tell you how I want this to play out but I don't want to overwhelm you. What I will tell you is that tonight, while we're at dinner, you're having an accommodation upgrade."

She laughs, "I knew it would be killing you".

"You know me; everything worth knowing and everything not." Red tells her smiling.

"I can't think of a single thing about you that isn't worth knowing" Lizzie responds.


End file.
